


Taking chances (like they're the last)

by nowhereminded



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, George and Ringo being dads, John is flirty, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nothing really sexual, Paul thinks too much, Pining, Pool Party, References to ABBA, Sort Of, minor starrisson, thigh kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhereminded/pseuds/nowhereminded
Summary: John has some damn good thighs.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Taking chances (like they're the last)

It was a hot day. Not warm, not heated, but hot— and it wasn't the nice kind of hot. It was the kind of hot that makes you feel like a melted pudding, that makes you disgustingly aware of every single drop of sweat sliding down your back and makes your blood boil in a not-so-sexy way.

Paul let out a sigh and looked at the pool through the window of the living room. Ringo was floating in the middle of it, spread like a star and moving ever so slowly, and George had his legs on the water, swinging them softly. John was nowhere to be seen, probably sleeping somewhere in the soft looking grass that he had been eyeing when they had arrived.

Of course Paul wanted to get out of the suffocatingly warm house and join their friend's little party in Ringo's backyard, but he couldn't stop thinking about the dangers of doing so. Much like a gazelle in the wild, he was in a risky situation and had to proceed with caution if he didn't want to get caught.

Because John was wearing a particulary short swimming suit, and they were quite tight as well if he wasn't mistaken (he could be, though— he had turned his head so fast when John had gotten out of the bathroom that he couldn't even recall the colour of the swimsuit).

But the problem wasn't how short it was, really. The problem was how much of his _thighs_ it revealed.

Okay, so maybe that was the problem.

Paul had seen John half-naked _and_ naked many times, really, more than he could remember. They had shared a bed, a bathroom and clothes— even a fork, once. You could say he was used to see his thighs, clothed or not, and that he was kind of inmune to his provocations. And he was, he really was (he'd be dead by now otherwise). He didn't have any trouble breathing when John got out of the shower, nor did he stare at his legs for long periods of time without noticing— not anymore.

As a matter of fact, he wouldn't have had a problem with it at all if he hadn't seen the _look_ John had thrown him before locking himself in the bathroom to put on the fucking swimming suit. So _filthy_ , so _sensual_ , so _seducing_ , so _knowing_. Because of course he knew what he was doing— what he was doing _to Paul_.

Son of a bitch.

Finally, after noticing his forehead was already covering in sweat despite being in just a swimming suit and a half buttoned shirt, he opened the glass door that lead to the back of the house and stepped into the grass. He felt a curl of excitement and pleasure when the nice, fresh breeze caressed his skin, and walked towards his friends. He saw John splayed in the grass, just as he had imagined, but he made the concious decision not to look his way. He woulnd't give into the temptation, not yet.

"Hey mate! Thought you were never gonna join us." Ringo saluted, waving at him. Ha had moved to the edge of the pool, next to George, who was smiling softly.

"Yeah, Macca, what took you so long?" he heard John ask, but he just shrugged and sat on the grass. _As if you didn't know, asshole_.

Hyperly aware of John's stare going through him, probably having read him like an open book by now, he laid down and leaned on his elbows. "Nice day, eh, lads?" he commented instead, grinning. He knew John didn't like being ignored, but that'd show him not to mess with him and his lust.

He heard a scoff, but John didn't press the matter.

After an hour George and Paul had raced to see who could swim from side to side of the pool the fastest (George won, but only because Paul saw the way Ringo was cheering for them and laughed so hard he swallowed too much water and had to stop) and John had shown everybody how good he was at cannonballing into the water, splashing them all in the process.

It was all a good distraction. Every now and then Paul would let his gaze shift to John's wet, dripping thigs and the way his swimming suit stuck to his skin, outlining the perfect shape of his butt, made him shiver.

He made sure to jump into the water every time he felt a funny tingling in his crotch, because if there was something he wanted to avoid was a boner in the middle of a pool party.

They eventually got hungry and Ringo and George agreed to make some sandwitches while Paul and John prepared the drinks. Knowing it would only take them a minute to put some ice and lemon juice in four glasses, Paul lay on the grass for a few more minutes, eyes closed and soft smile on his lips. He could feel more than see John getting out of the water and approach him, but he didn't acknowledge him. Only when he felt him hovering over him and some of the drops that were travelling through John's body moved to his own did he open an eye. He regreted the decision inmediatly after, eyes wide open in awe.

John was practically on top of him, both hands on each side of his head. He was dripping, hair stuck to his forehead and completely disheveled, looking like he had gotten out of a fucking dream. He was looking at Paul with an amused glint in the eyes and a little, devilish smile, as if he could read his thoughts. He probably could. "Hi."

"Hi there yourself." was Paul's slow answer, still taking in the image he had in front of him.

"Have you been avoiding me, Mr. McCartney?" John murmured in a tone that felt like melting honey in Paul's ears. He tried to swallow discreetly the lump that had stored in his throat.

"Not at all, Mr. Lennon. What gave you that impression?"

"Mmm..." was all John answered, looking at Paul as if he was a present he was excited to open. His gaze settled in Paul's mouth for a moment, and when he saw John licking his lips he knew he was about to _loose it_. "I'm glad you weren't. Wouldn't want you to miss the special outfit I picked out for you."

"Right, of cou— wait, what?"

But it was late. John was already on his feet, walking towards the portable fridge where the drinks were. Paul stared at him for a whole minute, still processing what he had just heard. Because that had happened, right? Yes, the warm feeling in his lower belly _and lower_ confirmed him that John had in fact said that. Oh, well.

The rest of the day went on without any other incident. They all joked around and relaxed like little kids for hours, drinking and eating and swimming and just enjoying the moment. It was rather nice, really, and Paul managed to concentrate in loads of other things other than John's thighs and bum.

When dawn approached, they were all sprawled in the grass in diferent positions. George was sitting in a plastic chair, Ringo was laying on a sunbed with his shades on (Paul suspected he was actually asleep) and John and him were sitting in the grass. Suddenly, John decided he wanted some music and asked Paul where the guitars were.

"I left them in the sofa, next to the coffee table."

"I'll go fetch them." he said, making sure Paul was looking when he made a whole show out of standing up. _Jesus, those thighs, what I'd do to them_. He couldn't stop looking at his legs when he walked towards the house, wondering what they would look like covered in bruises and bite marks. Probably fucking beautiful.

"You're drooling." George suddenly said, getting Paul out of his daydream. He turned his head so fast he could have snapped his neck.

"'M not." he said with a frown.

"Yeah, you are. You drool every time John wiggles his butt for you, don't think Ringo and I haven't noticed. Well, maybe Ritchie is still figuring out." he corrected while looking at his friend (who was now snoring lightly). He smiled a little before returning his attention to Paul. "You should do something about this whole situation, you know. That much sexual tension isn't good for your body."

" _There is no sexual tension—_ "

"Yeah there is. Shut up and listen, mate. John _obviously_ wants whatever it is that you want with him, so I suggest you make your move before he gets tired of luring you in. You know how impatient he is."

George had a point. John had never fancied the long waits, specially when it was because of someone. He looked at the house, making sure John was still inside, and then back at George. "You think I should...?"

"He is already seduced, man. You really don't have a lot to do. Just finish the goddamn job." the younger one said, rolling his eyes.

"You make it sound so easy." he murmured.

"Because it is, mate." he insisted, sounding bored and amused at the same time.

"It's not!"

"Shh!" George shushed him with a frown, immediatly looking at Ringo to see if he had woken up. He hadn't, judging by the lack of movement other than his chest raising and falling. George sighed and turned to Paul. "Look," he continued in a lower tone this time, even if it had been Paul who had raised his voice. "I'm not forcing you to do anything you don't want to, but this thing between you two has gone above ridiculous. Do something about it or cut it loose, I don't really care, but if I see you checking John's lower body again I'll make you clean my bathroom with a toothbrush. Got it?"

Paul nodded, unsure about if he had to take George's threat seriously or not. Then he looked back at the house and noticed John still was inside. What the hell was taking him so long?

"I'll go check on him." he announced while standing up.

"Yeah, you do that. I'll stay here with Ritchie and make sure he doesn't hear your unholy sounds." he joked with a straight face.

Paul wanted to laugh, but he was way to nervous to do it so he just smiled weakly at him before walking towards the house. It was time, wasn't it? George was right— he always was, the brat.

Once inside he started to look for John, calling him soflty, but he was nowhere to be found. He got to the second floor, and while climbing the stairs he started to hear the faint sound of a guitar. He knew John good enough to know it was him before he even registered what he was listening to. He smiled, recognizing the song, and followed the sound to one of the guest's bedrooms. The door was half open and he could see John sitting on the bed, staring at a corner of the room as he played.

He looked so beautiful Paul gave himself a few seconds to take him in before stepping in.

" _Our last summer_ , huh?" he asked while walking towards him. John followed him with his gaze, but didn't stop singing. He was improvising some of the lyrics, Paul noticed, as he usually did.

It was an unusual song for him to play, but his voice fit perfectly with the tone and even the few changes he did to the melody sounded great. That was just John's power, Paul guessed.

He had been avoiding Paul's eyes since he had walked it, focused on his fingers moving along the strings, but suddenly he looked up and stared directly into Paul's eyes.

_I was so happy we had met_

_It was the age of no regret_

Paul felt a shiver travel from his toes to his neck as he took in the meaning of the situation, of the song, of those words, of _John_. He was singing to him a— a love song, right? How many things could that possibly mean? He wanted to do it, wanted to take the step, but he didn't want to interrupt John so he waited. He waited for the right moment to... to do it.

_Those crazy years, that was the time_

_Of the flower-power_

_But underneath we had a fear of flying_

_Of getting old, a fear of slowly dying_

_We took the chance_

_Like we were dancing our last dance_

Instead of starting to sing the chorus, John's stopped for a second and stared at Paul, as if waiting for him to do something, but Paul was so mesmerized by the beauty of the moment, his chest so fucking filled with absolute _adoration_ and what could only be described as _love_ , he didn't move. His muscles didn't respond, neither did his brain. He just stared back at John, his eyes shining slightly and his mouth hanging open. Without looking away, John resumed his playing, but instead of singing the actual chorus, he kept the rythm with a change on the lyrics. So what should have been "I can still recall our last summer", ended up being something else.

_Fucking do it now, god's sake Macca_

And while that broke a little bit the purity of the moment, it worked. In less than a second, Paul had his mouth on John's and was kissing him with such hunger, such need, that had he not been absolutely concentrated in John's taste he would have worried about hurting him. But if the way John beamed and melted into the kiss was any indicator that he was more than happy for the attention he was recieving, Paul knew he didn't have to worry at all.

The guitar slided down John's legs and fell to the ground, but neither of them paid it no mind. John intertwined his fingers with Paul's still wet hair as Paul rested a hand in John's leg, caressing it up and down and finally moving to the interior of his thigh, gaining a sigh from John when he lightly palmed the soft skin and _grasped_.

"I've wanted to do this ever since I saw you wear leather pants for the first time." he whispered against John's wet mouth, nibbling his lower lip.

"Well, why didn't you do it before then?" John asked in an agressive tone, but Paul knew it was a result of the sexual frustration and lust he had been feeling for God know how long.

"Have no idea." Paul answered before pushing John until he was laying on the bed, settling between his legs. "But I'm not gonna stop now, if it worries you." he grinned before kissing him again, feeling John's hands travelling all the way from his hair to his butt. He grabbed it and squeezed it, earning some pleasured sounds from Paul. "God, baby, John—"

"Shut up. I know. Just kiss me." he ordered, and how could Paul say no to such a petition.

Eventually, though, Paul couldn't take it anymore and broke the kiss, much to John's disapproval. "Sorry, love," he whispered between kisses as he got lower and lower on John's chest. "But you don't know how much I need this."

When he arrived to John's thighs he let go a sigh. He couldn't believe this was really happening. He wasted no time and spread John's legs a little bit more to have complete access to the soft, spotless skin there. He licked his left thigh first, then moved to the other. "You knew, didn't you?" he whispered between soft bites, hearing John's quick breaths and huffs. "You knew what you were doing to me every time you showed me your legs." he concluded before _sucking_ hard and unforgivingly. John let out a gasp and fell flat on the bed, moving his hips in circling motions. That first hickey was quickly followed by another, and another, and another, and Paul didn't stop until there wasn't an inch of John's thighs that wasn't red or covered in teeth marks and John's moans were forever engraved in his memory. Then he made his way up, back to John's mouth. "You know now." he smiled, pressing their still clothed crotches, even if only by the swimsuits.

"Jesus, Paul, I need you." John whispered shakily, and Paul's smile grew wider.

Meanwhile, in the backyard, George was absently playing his ukelele and humming along, careful not to wake Ringo. Suddenly, though, he was woken up by a loud _thud_ , so startled that he almost fell off the sunbed.

He looked at George, his shades having almost fallen down completly because of the sudden movement, and then looked around them. When he didn't see neither John nor Paul, he frowned and stared at Georged with a confused look. He didn't need an explanation, though, because his groggy brain seemed to connect the dots and he relaxed against the sunbed again. "They've finnally figured things out, eh?"

George nodded, lifting a hand to play with Ringo's hair now that he was awake. The older man sighed and looked at the house thoughtfully. "I hope they don't break anything." he mutered.

"Eh, you know how they get sometimes. But they'll be careful." he assured him, even though he wasn't so sure himself, and resumed his playing.

After all, you never knew with those two.

**Author's Note:**

> I was very obviously listening to abba while writing this
> 
> alright so i COULDN'T ignore the existence of John's thighs and how obviously thirsty we all are for them. also yes, i love teasing with some starrisson
> 
> thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!


End file.
